He visited his grandparents in the US every summer as a boy.

Then, after his parents were killed in a car crash while he was in university, the visits became too painful.

He was working in a large art supplies store in London when the same executor who

handled his parent's meager trust fund gave him the call.

Both grans gone. Within days of each other, their little cabin, Grandfather's kiln, their accounts, all were his.

Mingled guilt and relief, the degree in art seemed of little use.

He's come to the City to making a living doing what he loves.

It is a rare gift, and he is grateful.

He has his own studio, his own place to live.

No longer a 'retail clerk', but a potter, artisan, Artist.

Studio at #r-earthenw